What a difference a year makes
by Cybelluk
Summary: Dick finally breaks down over the death of his parents


_This is my first attempt at this type of thing. The characters are borrowed from D.C. comics. _

_Cybell._

Part One

Dick lay in his bed; outside it was howling a gale and the rain was lashing against the windows.

He pulled the quilt closer around himself and buried his head deeper into the pillows. It wasn't that he was cold, Alfred had lit a fire earlier, and it had driven the chill away, but he just didn't feel that he could sleep.

He had lain for what seemed to be hours watching the flickering patterns cast by the fire on the ceiling, yet sleep wouldn't come, even though he was in that "sweet spot" where one just didn't want to move.

The wind gusted another ferocious attack against the house, whipping the icy rain against the glass in a staccato.

Although he was so comfortable and in a strange way the sounds from outside were soothing, he had this odd feeling that if he slept it would not be untroubled. He was at a loss to explain it though.

He wondered what the time was but he was too comfortable to move in order to see the bedside clock. He opened his eyes and tried to estimate the time, but the room was dark and the thick drapes at the windows kept out the tempestuous night. There was just a faint glow from the remains of the fire

Dick yawned and closed his eyes again. He would be no use to anyone in the morning, but at least it was the weekend and he could stay in bed a little longer. There would be no point in saying anything, since he was sure Bruce wouldn't understand, Alfred maybe would, but………

He yawned again and attempted to burrow deeper into the bed

At least it was comfortable. In fact the bed seemed to be nearly as big as some of the rooms he had stayed in with his Mom and Dad when they could afford to winter in digs. Even his room was bigger than the trailer they had lived in when touring.

He had felt as if he would get lost in the bed, and needed to tie a piece of string to the bedpost so as to find his way out again, when he had first slept there. Now it was a haven, a place he could come to when he needed to be alone, where the unwritten rule of the house was that if the door was closed no one came into the room unless they knocked first. His bedroom door was now ajar, as it was most nights.

The wind wailed and whistled around the building, seeking out all the nooks and crannies, finding anything that was loose and rattling it. Again the rain beat out a rhythm against the glass almost threatening to break through.

Dick was used to this - Gotham in the winter was a drab, dark, miserable place. It was always raining, or snowing. When it snowed, the City brightened up for a while, but it was soon turned into a grey dirty mess, and the bleakness returned. The nights were a little better; the lights from the shop fronts and neon signs reflected in the wet streets and gave a festive feel.

Tonight though he was glad he and Bruce where not out on a "mission".

Things had been rather quiet of late, he thought as he yawned again, and then again………….

"Good morning young Sir."

Dick sat up and rubbed his eyes. The drapes had been opened and a grey light filtered in through the glass.

Alfred was placing a tray on the bedside table

"I thought you might appreciate breakfast in bed this morning young man".

"Hmmm thank you Al'" Dick mumbled trying to get his brain into gear.

Alfred raised an eyebrow, what was it about this young man that made it impossible for him to chastise him about him using the abbreviated form of his name? No one else would be able to get away with it!

He smiled to himself as he turned to busy himself laying Dicks clothes out. He always got his own back by addressing Dick as 'Richard John', the young man always protested at this saying no one called him that unless he was in trouble.

Dick rolled onto his side and watched Alfred through half open eyes. He wondered if he would ever get used to being waited on in this fashion. He had been here almost a year……………..

He sipped the orange juice. He didn't feel hungry, which was unusual, as he normally had an enormous appetite, both Bruce and Alfred commented that they didn't know where he put all the food he ate. He should be as big as a house, they would say. Alfred would laugh and say he must have "hollow legs".

It was more likely the energetic indefatigable way Dick usually approached every task set before him that kept him 'well honed'. Keeping up with the trapeze routines helped, and the martial arts and other sports that Bruce had introduced him to alongside the aikido he had already mastered during his days as a gymnast with the circus, make him an extremely fit, agile young man.

"Shall I run you a bath sir?" Alfred asked.

"No thanks Alfred, I'll have a shower in a bit. I'm still rather tired, do you think anyone would mind if I stayed put a bit longer?"

"I shouldn't think so. Did you have a bad night?" Alfred enquired

"Err…. well kind of, I just couldn't seem to drop off at all" Dick replied. "At least I didn't have the bad dreams", he thought, mercifully.

"Very well young man, I'll leave you in peace then, for now", Alfred said kindly as he retreated from the room, leaving the door ajar.

Dick swallowed the last of the juice and snuggled back down into the bed, wriggling about until he found the comfy spot again. As he lay with his eyes closed, his mind wandered back to the time just over a year ago when his parents had still been alive.

In his mind he could hear his Dad laughingly shouting at him to "get up lazybones" as he pretended to be asleep. Then his Dad would pull him out of bed and throwing him over his shoulder carry him into the living area, only to deposit him on the floor and tickle him till he squealed.

He also remembered the nights, when his Mom would come and tuck him into bed and kiss him goodnight.

"Aw Mom don't you think I'm getting too big for this?" He would protest.

She would chuckle, saying,

"Sweetheart I don't care how old you get, you will always be my baby".

In his heart he knew if she had ever stopped he would have missed it.

Now it had been a long time since anyone had done that.

It seemed such a long time since anyone had shown him any real physical affection. Bruce didn't seem able to, apart from the odd hand on his shoulder. He often had the feeling that Bruce was about to hug him but it just never quite happened, as Bruce always pulled back. He couldn't have described Bruce as cruel though

Alfred was kindly enough to him, but again the affection was always verbal rather than demonstrative.

In the confines of his bed he could pull the quilt and pillows around him and try to imagine he was back, safe in his Mom or Dad's arms, as he did now, but he just didn't seem to be able to get the right 'feeling 'this time

He rolled onto his back and gazed up at the ceiling.

"Oh well" he sighed, throwing off the covers and heading for the bathroom.

Part Two Dick made his way along the corridor and down the stairs. He paused at the bottom and listened. All was quiet apart from the ticking of the clocks and the usual, now familiar, noises that the vast house made. "Bruce must still be in bed", he thought to himself, as he glanced round at the various doors leading of the hall. He just couldn't decide what to do, should he go and watch T.V.? Take the opportunity to play on the computer? Nothing took his interest. He just felt listless and lethargic. He sat on the bottom step and tried to get his mind to focus. After a few moments he set of in the direction of the gym. 

"Maybe a good workout will make me feel brighter?" he mused.

He usually felt invigorated and ready for anything once he had worked up a good sweat. Ok so he had just had a shower, but hey he could always have another.

He reached the gym and quickly changed into a vest and an old pair of leggings. He dusted his hands and feet with chalk and starting on the high bar he began a slow warm up sequence of turns and twists. He was in his element here.

After using several of the pieces of apparatus he moved to the trapeze Bruce had had set up for him.

"It's a pity I have no one to catch me", he thought as he described lazy circles through the air.

"Maybe Bruce would consider learning? I reckon I could trust him. It would be so good to 'fly' again".

Dick speeded up, gradually rotating faster and faster, hanging first by his hands then ankles then hands, and then knees…………..

In his mind he could hear the music that accompanied the solo routine he had been allowed to perform now and again.

Solo…………….the word hung in his mind with startling clarity………Solo!

He dropped down and hung from the trapeze by his hands, gasping slightly from the exertion, the bar swinging gently.

He allowed himself to drop to the floor, bending at the knees he landed lightly on his feet on the safety mattress.

A feeling started to roll over him, like a tide rushing in, then out, taking with it all his energy.

Dick sank down on the mattress and drew his knees up to his chin; wrapping his arms around them, he gazed into the distance not seeing anything. His insides felt so hollow.

He felt something wet run down his cheek and drip from his chin……………………………

How long he had sat there he didn't know. Time had just faded out, as had the room around him.

A voice penetrated his reverie.

"There you are Dick, I was wondering where……………..Dick are you ok? Dick?"

Bruce sat down at the side of him, although Dick was only vaguely aware of his presence.

He felt a hand under his chin lifting his head, then a thumb brushing away the wetness on his cheek.

As his eyes focused he saw Bruce looking at him with grave concern on his face.

"Dick?" Bruce probed

Dick's thoughts struggled to become words but they failed. He just stared silently back at Bruce, then dropped his eyes to the floor.

Bruce, realising that Dick was on the verge of breaking down, mentally went through the list of possible actions he should take.

Feeling out of his depth he just put his arm around the boys shoulders. It was so hard to try and convey to Dick just how much he understood.

Becoming aware of the arm around him Dick looked up and in that moment he felt something well up inside him. It started in the pit of his stomach and as it grew in intensity, felt as if someone was dragging his insides out of him.

His head dropped again, rocking himself, he drew in a breath. His face contorted with pain as a silent scream tore from what seemed to be the very bottom of his soul.

"Help me", he managed to gasp as the agony overtook him and he buried his head in Bruce's chest, grabbing hold of the front of Bruce's jumper

Bruce hesitated, caught unawares by this reaction.

Then he wrapped his arms around Dick and hugged him close.

Bruce had often commented to Alfred that he envied Dicks ability to seemingly get on with life after the tragic death of his family, but Alfred had warned him that one day Dick would succumb to the grief.

That day had come, it was the first anniversary of the day they had died.

Dick struggled to regain some composure and feeling guilty about this show of emotion tried to push himself away from Bruce, who was now holding him quite tightly.

"I'm sorry", he hiccupped, "sorry."

His emotions overtook him again and the heart rending sobs resumed.

"Its alright, young man," Bruce assured him

"Let it out, you need to let go. It may seem hard to believe now, but it will make things seem better."

Dick's cries became muffled as he buried his face deeper into Bruce's chest, his hands clinging to his jumper.

Bruce absently stroked Dick's hair.

"I do understand, I promise you I do understand. Dick you're safe."

Dick was sure his heart was going to burst. His distress was so physically painful he didn't think he could bear it. Yet he did feel safe, as Bruce had assured him, safe to let his guard down.

"Why did they leave me?" he cried

"Why didn't I die with them, why, why?"

"I wish I knew the answer to that, but I wouldn't have known you otherwise," Bruce answered

"And that's one thing I am grateful for." He thought to himself.

As he held Dick, Bruce's mind drew back to the time when he too had had to endure these same emotions. An experience that made it possible for him to empathize with what was happening to Dick now.

How could he make the pain go away for the boy, when he still felt the same even now?

Eventually Dick's sobs quietened down and he sagged against Bruce. Bruce supported him, holding him closer still.

Still shaking Dick felt he could just stay like this forever. He hadn't felt this warm, safe and cared for in a while.

He pushed away though, Bruce's grip slackened slightly to allow Dick to look up

"I'm s...sorry" he stuttered, "I messed up your Jumper.

"Its only a jumper, its not important", Bruce said kindly.

"I feel so stupid b…breaking down like that", Dick stammered, trying to push further away from Bruce. He was starting to feel embarrassed by what had happened and by Bruce's unexpected, though not unwelcome, show of affection.

"Don't feel bad about it, I doubt its over yet. You've held all that inside for too long." replied Bruce.

"Dick, listen, I………….. I'm the one who should be sorry. I realise now that I haven't been fair. I have probably appeared cold to you." He continued.

"No Bruce" Dick interrupted "No I."

Bruce placed a finger on Dick's lips.

"Shhhhhhh, let me finish", he gently insisted.

"Dick, I, I'd been on my own for so long, and I had got used to everything being done my way. I wasn't really prepared for the task of being responsible for another person either.

On top of all that I was afraid that, because of suggestions my detractors were making, you would be taken from me." He explained

"Because of that I've deprived you of the affection you craved and that's not fair. I can't promise to get it right all the time, but I will try to be there for you when you need me." He continued.

Tears began to course down Dick's face again.

"Oh Bruce," he managed to say through the curtain of tears

"Oh Bruce, I never thought you cold, just so, so, distant." Dick fell against Bruce again, needing the support.

"Come on," Bruce instructed, "Lets go to the lounge, its more comfortable and warmer there."

Getting to his feet he lifted Dick at the same time.

Dick didn't have the strength to argue and allowed Bruce to guide him through the house.

Part Three

Bruce settled Dick on the sofa near the fire. He handed him a mug.

"Careful its hot," he warned.

Dick didn't drink but cradled the mug in his hands savouring the warmth from it.

"I wonder how Alfred always seems to know what's needed," he thought.

He had often tried to outsmart Alfred in a kind of game of 'bet you cant guess what I'm going to ask for.' Alfred invariably produced just what he wanted, often before he even asked.

Dick shivered despite the warmth of the fire. Bruce pulled a throw from the back of the sofa and wrapped it around his shoulders.

"That better?" he asked, knowing that it wasn't really.

Dick nodded, but didn't look up.

Bruce sat beside him, his arm resting on the back of the sofa, were he could drop it around the boys shoulders if need be.

Dick not knowing quite what to do at this point began to sip at the drink.

"Tea", he thought with wry amusement. "Alfred's cure all remedy. At least he put sugar in it this time."

He finally looked up at Bruce who was watching him with concern.

"I'm ok now." He lied "I'd better go get cleaned up and into some proper clothes………"

He didn't move though. His eyes dropped back to contemplate the mug in his hands. He wanted to say something but couldn't find the words to articulate what he felt.

Then the flood of emotion overtook him again and he dissolved into tears once more.

Bruce dropped his arm around Dick, who drew his legs up under him and, half turning, allowed Bruce to draw him close.

This time the tears seemed endless.

Bruce fished a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe Dicks face then handed it to him as fresh tears spilled down.

Outside the rain began again with a blast of wind that made the house seem to shudder. The fire danced in the grate and cast eerie shadows around the now prematurely darkened room.

The only sounds in the room where the crackling of the fire and the tick- ticking of the grandfather clock and the occasional sob from Dick. Despite his distress Dick felt safe. He didn't want to leave this cocoon of comfort.

Laying here wrapped in the throw and in Bruce's arms he felt transported back to a time when, sick and feverish with some childhood illness, his Dad had gathered him into his arms and had sat rocking him. Uttering gentle sounds of reassurance, till Dick had finally fallen asleep……………

Bruce sensed a change in Dicks breathing pattern and realised that the boy had fallen asleep.

"No sense in moving him yet" he thought.

He was actually gaining some comfort himself from holding Dick in this way.

Alfred approached and quietly enquired as to what was happening.

"He's cried himself to sleep Alfred. I suppose I should get him up to his bed, don't you think? I feel loathed to disturb him just yet though". Bruce said gently.

Alfred nodded.

"I'll go and turn his bed down ready and make the fire up again. That will give him time to fall into a deeper sleep. Then you can carry him up without disturbing him too much."

Alfred silently left the room to go about his task.

Bruce became aware that Dick seemed to have got heavier. When Dick also started to snore gently, he knew that the boy was now deeply asleep.

Carefully lifting Dick into his arms he stood, hesitating for a second to make sure he hadn't woken him he carried Dick up to the bedroom.

Laying him in the bed Bruce drew the covers over him and smoothed them down around his sleeping form.

Brushing Dicks hair back from his face, Bruce stood watching him.

"This isn't over yet," he thought, "There's more to come I'm sure."

Part Four

Dick opened his eyes. At first he felt disorientated, then as the fog cleared slowly from his mind, he realised he was in his bed.

He struggled to sit up, and tried to read the clock, but the room was in darkness and he didn't seem to be able to focus on its illuminated face.

He sank back into the pillows.

He felt totally drained. His insides ached, he had that hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach that usually comes with hunger, but he knew it wasn't that. His head ached too, and his eyes felt so raw and full of grit. His mouth and throat were dry.

"I really let myself go." He thought miserably. "What on earth had Bruce thought?

Hang on though! Bruce had actually embraced him, held him, and comforted him even! How had he got into his bed? Bruce must have carried him here. Alfred wouldn't have been able to."

Thoughts of the last few hours' events tumbled though his mind. A few tears escaped and trickled down his hot cheeks. He wiped them away with the corner of the sheet, but more followed. Mentally admonishing himself he rolled over on his side and curled into the foetal position contemplating his next course of action.

As he lay there he became aware of a noise coming from across the room. He had noticed that the fire had been rekindled, but this didn't sound like any noise the fire would make. He rolled onto his back and tried to focus his senses in that direction.

Yes there it was again!

He got to his knees and shuffled to the end of the bed. Pulling himself up on the footboard he peeked over.

Sat in the large winged chair at the side of the fire was Bruce. His legs stretched out in front of him. The fact that he was asleep became apparent when the source of the noise revealed itself as a snore.

Dick sat back on his heels.

"Had Bruce been there all the time?" he wondered as he then shuffled back into the bed.

"This was definitely a new turn of events," he thought " Bruce had shown a side that he hadn't thought was there. Then again what was it Bruce had told him about not being able to?" He wasn't sure he really understood.

He heard the door being pushed open and saw Alfred come in to the room. He came over to the bed.

"Ah, your awake," he observed, "I've brought you a drink, I thought you would need one."

"Thank you Alfred, I do, my mouth and throat are so dry." Dick responded,

Alfred then did something he would never have expected. He sat on the edge of the bed.

"How are you feeling young man?" He asked gently.

"I don't really know," Dick, answered, "I've been a bit silly I think, getting so weepy and everything. I didn't mean to create such a palaver with all that balonie"

"Don't beat yourself up about it young Sir, it was a very natural reaction to all you have been through. I'm only surprised it didn't happen sooner.

Both Bruce and I were concerned that it hadn't. Keeping all that bottled up for so long was not good. Maybe now you can begin to heal.

I am thankful that it doesn't seem to have eaten away at you in the same way it has Bruce. Its not been easy watching him drive himself so hard all these years."

"Alfred," Dick interrupted, "Alfred, I didn't think he cared, but now, well………….I mean," words failing him he looked at Alfred quizzically.

"Master Dick, Bruce loves you in his way. He may not have always shown you, which is a mistake I have pointed out to him so often. Try to understand, after losing his parents he felt he could never let himself love anyone that much again for fear of losing them." Alfred explained.

"For whatever reasons you have changed that and he is struggling with the fact that he can feel again."

Dick remained silent, Alfred was right. When he thought about it he had seen the signs but had not recognised them at the time. What Bruce had done must have been so hard for him; Dick appreciated it even more now.

"Drink your juice young man," Alfred told him, "Then I suggest you have a shower and change into your P.J.'s. Then back to bed. I will bring you something to eat."

"A shower sounds good, I am rather sweaty," Dick said sniffing himself. "But I'm not hungry." He added "Thank you."

"We will see young man." Alfred smiled. "Come on get yourself in that bathroom, I will get your pyjamas."

"What about Bruce?" Dick asked inclining his head in the direction of the still sleeping figure.

"Oh I think we will leave him a while, it's a shame to wake him, don't you think?" chuckled Alfred.

"I guess so." Dick replied surprising himself when he realised he had smiled back.

Feeling refreshed Dick emerged from the bathroom. The bedside lights were on adding their warm glow to the firelight. The chair beside the fire was now empty. Dick was a little saddened by this.

"He must have scarpered while I was in the shower," he muttered to himself as he climbed back into his bed. He briefly considered going to seek him out, but he felt too weary right now.

The door opened and Alfred came in with a tray.

"Oh Alfred, I'm not hungry," complained Dick eyeing the mountain of food on the tray.

"Now that is a load of old balonie," Alfred chuckled

Dick's eyes widened at his use of the slang he thought only the circus folk used. Alfred was full of surprises.

Alfred placed the tray on Dicks lap.

"I'm sure you can manage some of it." He cajoled gently.

"Ok," Dick acquiesced, "I'll give it my best."

"I'll leave you to it and I'll collect the tray later young man. Oh By the way Bruce has just gone to have a shower himself he says to tell you he will pop back later." Alfred informed him.

Dick viewed the food with a sense of amusement.

"Good old Alfred," he thought, "trust him to make something irresistible."

Despite his protestations that he wasn't hungry, he had no sooner taken his first tentative bite of the hamburger, than the plate was almost empty. The fries, a rare treat, were also washed down with a large glass of milk. He made short work of the large slice of cherry pie too.

Feeling warm and replete, Dick slid the tray onto the side table and slid down into the bed. He felt different somehow. Everything felt different now!

Suddenly it hit him like a ferricadooza!

"I'm home!"

With this thought echoing in his head, his eyes started to droop as he drifted off to sleep.

Bruce crept into the room. He had waited outside listening, until he was certain that Dick was asleep again. The boy's rhythmic breathing confirmed this.

He smiled to himself when he saw the empty plates.

Standing beside the bed he watched the sleeping form.

"Caring for this kid wasn't going to be easy." He thought reflecting on the moment he had decided to take him in. He still couldn't comprehend what it was that had made him make that decision.

He hadn't considered what the boy would be like. He could have been a reprobate and absconded with the family silver.

Yet he had been surprised at just how much of a strong moral sense of what was right and wrong the Dick had.

Despite popular misconceptions about circus folk Dick was actually very well mannered and well behaved, actually employing some rather quaint old-fashioned manners that even Alfred had remarked on.

"It must have been difficult for Dick to adjust to the new lifestyle, yet most of the time he seemed unfazed by it all." Bruce reasoned

"In such a relatively short time Dick has taught me so much. He has shown me the way to begin to care again, and to find the courage to let it happen."

Bruce knew he had to find a way to make Dick feel 'wanted' again. An idea had been running through his mind almost from the moment Dick had first broken down.

Bruce made a mental note to himself.

"First thing Monday morning…………contact the legal department and start adoption process."

Bruce straightened the covers around Dick and then moved over to the chair beside the fire. He settled into it.

He wanted to be near Dick in case the boy's sleep was haunted by the nightmares that had disturbed his sleep on so many nights. After today's events it was highly likely the bad dreams would visit him tonight.

He was sure Dick hadn't realised that he had spent many a night in this same chair, after settling him down after such an occurrence, watching over him.

Dick stirred. He opened his eyes and lay listening. After a short while he sat up.

"Bruce," he thought settling back down.

He smiled to himself as he started to drift back to sleep.

He knew that he would not have to worry about the bad dreams tonight.

Bruce didn't think he knew about him sitting in that chair when he had had the nightmares on previous nights.

Somehow, after he had been woken from the troubled sleep, knowing Bruce was there had made it possible for him to resume sleeping peacefully.

"I'm not going to be 'over' losing Mom and Dad, ever," he thought. "I'm gonna miss them so much."

His eyes flickered shut and he slept…………………………………………………………


End file.
